Post by Phantasma on Aug 5, 2019 0:38:13 GMT -5
Resinbar: Porter Town, First island in the Crocodile Route, 10 AM sharp, Many days before the events in Alabasta
Cowboy country through and through, Resinbar was the sort of island that you often heard tale of in the tabloids. The natives were a hardy people but in their midst was a city of sin and a near constant foot traffic of ill reputes. Whether this was a point of contention with the World Government was anyone's say and had likely led to the near absence of a marine outpost, towns relying on local law enforcement in the form of sheriffs. These regulators would sooner lay a man out then let him run amok, didn't matter if you were a pirate or a tyrant... you mess with these people, you'd be lucky to see the day through. Tough crowd aside this meant that out of every island within this route Kite would find all sorts of work and was a slightly good omen pointing in his favor. All things considered how his previous ventures had ended if the land really was as hostile and tough as it sounded then weaker criminals, easier pickings, would stick closer to Snooker City or elsewhere in the company of fellow man.
According to what people he had passed by coming into port. Shipwrights mainly, a few sailors and even some Marines that were just passing through to another island looking to restock. Porter Town was a quiet coastal village comprised of a few inns, restaurants, smiths, general stores and basic necessities. Like most of the architecture of the island the whole place was a straight line of wooden buildings with glass panned windows and the odd metal pipe or two. Fences enclosed livestock, though that was more towards the edges, fringes of the town. The port sort of just spilled out into the ocean while docks had mores attached directly to the planks leading to dry land. With the quiet atmosphere it was easy to get lost in thought and for a time if Kite wasn't talking to people he'd just aimlessly wander down the boardwalk of businesses and livelihoods. Peering into windows he saw many things, clothes and cowboy hats, meats, a ruckus of livelihoods and swinging mugs and even a few musical instruments. The tour only lasted a handful of minutes, with the hunters brisk pace he was soon enough at the edge of the town peering up at a little faded red barn-sized building with a church tower attached to it. Boards intersected over the doorway and prohibited any sort of entry, its rectangular walls and box like shape hid well whatever was sealed inside.
Cocking his head to the side and stroking his chin the young man rolled his shoulders and dismissed the structure going back to the storefront he had passed earlier. Parting open the bar-door like wooden flaps that segregated the inside of the store to the outside he stepped in. A wash of cold air filtered down from a slowly spinning, slightly noisy fan while the counter to the store itself was left relatively unattended. The inside of the squat one story wedge of a clothing shop was designed to have mannequins wearing either genders clothing, hats and stow the actual true deal atop tables in neatly folded squares. Looking more like a garage sale there were a few actual hanging racks on the wall and even sewing equipment. Shoes clicking on tough brown oak floorboards Kite drifted to the back of the store hands feeling along various garments until finally spotting something that he liked. Hardly different from his current outfit it certainly made him stand out less and might even be more breathable than his current clothes. Reminded of the intense heat that had nearly baked him moments ago the youth grabbed what he wanted and went on his heel to turn.
Whirling around like he did the guy barely missed the ma and pa looking folks that had sprouted up behind the oddly modern, marble looking counter top. Both decrepit but one a man and the other a woman. White hair, wrinkly skin, diminutive stature and skinny arms, thin fingers. The husband, or old man, was wearing overhauls and a white work shirt while his wife had her hair collected into a proper Sunday hat and velvet like brown blazer combined with a simple ladybug patterned skirt. Despite clashing fashion the two kind of looked like they belonged to a pair, Kite was broken out of dissecting more details when the older man spoke.
"Howdy there jimmy! You find what you needed and got what you wanted? Something the matter?" He put a hand to his ear and leaned over the counter his milky eyes glimmering in the light while his tanned, liver spot skin got lighter the more it was exposed to natural light.
"I... Jimmy?" Kite looked around to either side before shaking his head and taking a deep breath.
"Yes sir. Just going to need this jacket, pants, a hat and a rucksack if you've gotten one. Clothing store I realize but... well I'm new in town haha," Trying not to make eye contact out of slight embarrassment Kite put the clothing on the counter taking the opportunity to admire them as the couple ran over the prices.
The jacket was greyed, not black with a solid color to it versus a pinstrippen theme. Elbow pads and all it looked more like some kind of professor or plantation high roller would wear, it even had silk lined interior pockets. The pants were of a similar color albeit less of a cotton texture, hemmed along two lines on either side of the legs and dyed to a white shade of grey adopting a kind of darkened cream complexion when in super white light. The hat was like any cowboy hat, had the signature flares on either side and that was that-- it was colored to match the jacket versus the pants and out of every piece did so right on the money.
"That'll be 100 Berri young man," The kind elderly lady called, jumping a bit when Kite put the money on the counter clearly lacking in depth perception.
On his way, draw string bag in hand with his purchases he was called out to even before he reached the doors. The two of the clerks running after him waving pieces of currency around.
"Y-you overpaid jimmy! We can't take this much!"
"Oh I insist. These clothes are fantastic and I won't underpay for such a superior product," Flashing a grin Kite excused himself out the door just missing the very heartfelt thank yous both of the minders gave in return.
'Now just to find a place to change into these... potentially get a room at one of the inns too? I might be here for a while depending on whichever bounty I select-- This place uses sheriffs too. Means I have to take a quick stop over there sometime today,' Scratching his head and smoothing back wet hair from his scalp he marched on along the sides of the town retracing his steps to the beginning of the inns.
Hardly a variety he picked the one closest to where he was currently, walked right in through the door parting it open with his shoulder. Backpack swinging around over his right shoulder held tightly with his right hands. Its white strings held closed a browned massive pocket. Treated material, water resistant and closer to the likes of leather.
It was a reflection of most things in this town, especially the spartan inside of the inn. A few tables here and there, a fully stocked bar by the looks of things complete with a buxom young lady polishing glasses in a fusion of what appeared to be a milk maid outfit and proper cooking apron. She hardly paid Kite any attention as he approached the counter to the inn, a far more secluded dug out that was closer to the stares in the back of the room and further away from tall windows. Everything in here was wooden in some way, decorated with the horns of animals or even bleached white bone. The owner of the establishment was a very serious man, in stark contrast to the elderly couple running the shop a few rows down. Dressed more like a mortician with his drab dark clothing possessing wrinkles all over his face and dark circles under his eyes. The two hardly said words, an exchange of money and a few grunts before a key was produced ending with Kite ascending the stairs without ever looking over his shoulders back.
He tried not to flinch when he felt the very quiet man boring holes into his backside. It was going to be tough sleeping here if he was going to have trouble-- Shaking his head the young man dismissed the thought entirely reminding himself of what he came to do.
A few rooms existed up in the loft-like area of the inns upper floors. Approximately four doors, all equidistant from one another in the darkened, furniture less corridor. A single large window allowed light in and illuminated the copper key which Kite fumbled to read, finding it said in an indent '1'. Wordlessly matching the artifact with the corresponding door he jammed the piece of metal into the door handles lock and twisted to the left. Ancient gears squealed within the contraption before the old aged timber creeked on worn hinges allowing the renter to appraise what he was afforded for a measly fee.
True to the price there was a single bed tucked into the right corner, a vanity mirror set against the same wall on the door and a nightstand by the bed. A stool was set by the oval-faced rectangle of a wardrobe and it appeared to be on a slight slouch. Stepping in and testing the legs with his feet Kite found one leg was indeed lame, it had been chipped or broken or worse. Letting out a slithering sigh there was at least the matter of the bed which on inspection almost looked clean. With a hawks eye he peeled back the comforter, the sheets and examined the pillows. Not dust nor offending odor puffed off of either and running his hands along the white sheets it was easy to mistake the actual materials as silk or some fine-count treasure. Looking forward to sleeping, for once, he put the sheets back into place and re-fluffed the pillow, unceremoniously tossing his things center first on the bed and stepping out of his clothes.
First came the overcoat and shirt, which did resist being pried off of skin by virtue of wear and galvanized skin. They were neatly folded almost immediately upon their removal hardly given time to develop wrinkles or enjoy being freed from their human. Next came the shoes which allowed for the pants to be stripped right off to join the matching clothes in a folded cocoon. Their final destination was within the confines of that bag after it had been cleared of the new clothes and hat, which sat on the bed waiting for Kite to put them on in order. Almost in exact reverse of what he had done moments before Kalisto swapped his entire ensemble for his purchased, snazzy new look.
Checking himself over in the vanity mirror a total of three times a single nod was given in approval. Those two might have been odd, no were definitely way too nice and weird but... they made a very nice duo of salespeople. Even the hat once securely put on felt like a glove, and turning around it was hard to believe that this outfit was made without being a form of bespoke.
From room to outside again was a few minutes since the hunter wanted refreshment, past that he was back on the dusty trail heading in the direction he had hopefully remembered was the sheriffs office. For good measure he'd read signs, maybe ask the locals.
The sound of gunshots and hideous laughter sent Kite running. His jaw firmly locking into place as he bit the interior of his mouth. A lazy day hadn't dulled his mind and as his boots pounded off of wood and stomped in the dusty road it was going a mile a second. Eyes shifting to the few people quick enough to poke outside their windows or lean up from their positions on walls. If not for the commotion then the veritable dust devil speeding off towards it.
...
"You're going to come quietly."
"Talking a looooooooooooooootta game there mister, considerin' I'm starin' at you down the barrel of a big iron."
"Ah... I misphrased that."
"Whut?"
"I meant you're going to wish you came quietly."
"Back to whut I was saying, mister."
He was held at gun point having no sooner entering the dimly lit, spartan office of the sheriffs office. A person in his position might've been shocked or felt their heart pounding away in their ears but Kite felt absolutely nothing. Through extended experience with a certain cat all he really got nowadays was a sudden raising of the hairs or a long rolling sigh, especially when dealing with the painfully mundane and hardly dangerous. That's how he saw this young desperado holding him up, her tongue rough but looks a decent bit less.
In sharp contrast to the wholly wooden and stone mortar sheriffs office decorated with squat furniture and aged paper clinging to tacks in the wall, this young miss was somewhat proper. Wearing a massive cowboy hat that hid hear eyes under the brim it was hard to make out her expression aside from skin tone and a sharp, thin line of ruby red lips. She was white, almost as pale as Kite with a few dusky brown freckles dotting exposed skin here and there. What looked to be a convex nose, a stature that was less than intimidating. She wasn't toothpick thin, wasn't exactly shapely either. A robust mixture of both, gun or no gun Kite suspected she could throw a punch. Even if her wardrobe was essentially just snakeskin lavender colored boots and a similarly shaded dress. Rippling rings on the top and bottom, somehow strapless and supported up near the top of her bust. Free arms, wrists adorned with three silver bangles each.
"Hey! Stop zoning out when I'm talkin' It's rude!" She smacked the gun against the wall managing to get Kite to blink and zone back in.
Squinting the male cleared his throat, doing his best to make eyecontact with the currently cross armed gunman.
"Right... you... what did you even want? I just came in here for the Sheriff and I get flattened against the wall like this?"
"As if! You came in here looking for trouble! Isn't that what you said earlier?!"
"No... I... well... Okay I might've drawn my weapon but that was only after I heard screams coming from here-- What difference does that make anyhow! You're a criminal! Why... why am I even asking?" Kite took the bridge of his nose in between either of his right hands thumb and pointer finger, massaging the flesh in a show of thorough annoyance.
"Folks," She audibly gulped.
"Folks heard a scream?" Nervously looking around she practically jumped up ten feet when she saw town people leaning in through the saloon style doors.
"Yess'm," One man answered from the top.
"Sure 'nough," A round faced woman leaned in from below chimed giving a big smile.
"Yea. Was a loud one this time Sheila," A peculiarly accented young boy parted the doors and flashed a raspberry with his tongue.
"I... Mmm... OKAY! FINE! GUN AWAY!" She seized up a bit around her upper body, getting all tight and clearly bothered, allowing the gun to vanish in the valley of... well, her chest.
Nary a bobble or wobble and the item was gone leaving Kite to just stand there blinking as he tried to make sense of the situation. Almost around the time he had connected the dots the sheriff spun on her heels to land a finger onto his chest digging the sharp clear nails into his fabric.
"First off. Don't go assuming a scream means people are in trouble 'kay. A lotta' us natives... we're a bit reactive. Meanin' you go charging through doors looking like some criminal you're bound to get a face full of lead. Comprende?"
"I... How... How do I LOOK like a criminal!" Kite exclaimed, flabbergasted, flopping his arms up and down.
"YOU GOT A DAMN SCARY EXPRESSION ON, ESPECIALLY COMIN' THROUGH MY DOOR!" She drove the finger in further.
"GET THAT THING OFF MY CHEST! SHERIFF!"
"THIS IS MY TOWN! I POKE WHAT I WANT, CHIEF!" She fired back, nostrils flaring.
"Sheriff?"
"Yea?!"
"No... are you actually the sheriff?" Kite steadied his breathing, bouncing back from the comedic episode rather quickly having realized what he just said.
"Yes! Woulda' thought that was clear as day with the iron and me talking like I did!" She withdrew her finger and let out a shake of the head.
Glad to have people going back to their own thing, she was able to deflate a bit. It wasn't every day a spider scared her like that, and she needed to look tough in front of the town people. If that meant sounding like a child and playing like she was easy to aggravate so be it. One didn't get a position on the island like this without having continually proven themselves. Kite was just an easy target-- outside of the serious worry he had inflicted earlier from nearly kicking down the door in response to the scream.
"We've got business then," Kites eyes locked onto the interesting and somewhat emotionally charged woman.
"Oh? You a bounty hunter?" She coolly sighed, walking back to her desk wasting no time in sitting down on her stool like chair, propping her legs up on the top of the barren furniture.
Kite couldn't help but quirk a brow at the transformation of the fiery woman. Paying it little mind though he carefully spoke in a hushed tone meant to carry only through the office of this sheriff. Though it had been fun and games earlier, due in part to clashing personalities, this business was the grim kind.
Possible jobs, people to hunt and imprison. An offer for cutting down numbers even. All for the sake of pay, or increased reputation. Its what got a bounty hunter by, and very few in the profession did it out of a kindness. That sort of noblesse oblige was reserved for the Marines.
"His name's Jim. And he's been dead for over thirty years to the day. Bring him in, we'll have stuff to talk about."
"Bring him in?"
"Well. Either the dead are walking among us or he ain't really as cold and stiff as folks would like us to believe he should be."
6:00 PM, A few miles from Porter Town
Desert heat was not something Kite was acclimated to, his long drawn out breathing and perpetually moist brow announced that fact several times over. Ignorant of his own limits or too foolishly determined he pressed on into the quick of the dusk stained desert, the sparse visibility a tease to keep him moving onward. Thankfully he wasn't straining his vision on a map and instead could soldier on in the heat towards a massive red rock faintly visible in the outback of the arid island. Cropping up where vegetation winked into existence, the mars colored specimen was like a lighthouse to a ship. Its significance conferred from Sheriff to now Kite.
Criminals were always dramatic... and if Jim was really dead-- well. What kind of dead man would leave the site of his unmarked grave?
Fella' wasn't the kindest to his allies. Supposedly it bit him in the arse one of those days, sand gobbling up whatever wasn't fit for the buzzards and scavengers. Earth really didn't care if you were scum or not, had enough kindness to spare the queasy a horror mosaic.
"Not really looking forward to adding grave robber onto my list of... hoof... job...haaa... handles," Kite wheezed out, stopping some distance from the massive landmark.
His impromptu rest stop was nothing more than another, smaller flat stone. Cold against his backside, unnaturally flat and as dry as the land itself. Apparently it was comfortable enough because no sooner had Kite rested his feet did he start squinting off at the red rock. Habitual thinking taking root, postulates forming like a chemical reaction.
The was something just... weird about the geography out here. Resinbar was a very flat place, it had the occasional overgrowth of cactus and a canyon but-- the ground just wasn't made to have such a massive formation of minerals. Was it really just as simple as walking towards it? Investigating?
"Why am I... doing this when I'm so close?" Kite bitterly grinned to no one in particular.
Rising up he dusted himself off, rolling his shoulders and carried on with his walking. Feet no longer dragging behind him. A spring in his step practically launched him off into a stride. His grin vanishing, but the clarity to his eyes remaining as he bored holes into his goal point. Once again crimson eyes were much like daggers, sharpened and fixated.
"Really not the time to be doing that... ridiculous double thinking. Gotta... just get there. In and out," Kite jerked his head up and down all sudden like as much for his benefit as for anyone else nearby.
The howling wind was the only kind of cheering he got.
Mind already at the rock his body mechanically cleared the distance. None the worse aside from a few harsh coughs and erratic beating in his chest as much from excitement as being overworked. His second wind came at much the same time as he felt the surface of the rock, almost gravitating towards its surface the minute he made his arrival.
Cold, but also a different kind of cold from the rock. A disturbing, leeching freezing.
He shivered and shook his head reflexively, retracting his hand and pocketing it.
"Now... she said it would've been around the perimeter but... This thing is massive," Clicking his tongue the albino started walking clockwise to the structure, inspecting nearly everything he came across.
A tentative flick of his boots tipped over rocks, pebbles, prodded cactus overgrowth. A lot of angry but skiddish scorpions, a few predatory birds squawking and some weird little gopher looking thing were all the hunter could find. Enough to briefly distract him from the fact when he turned around the massive Rock had moved a few feet.
He definitely felt it when he went in for a lean and bonked his head.
"Ow! What in the seven fiery hel-- I..." Kite bit his tongue when he flopped over onto his chest, admiring just how far he'd fallen backwards to make contact.
The electric signals of brief pain the impact had caused fell silent. Realization of sudden movement fell on him, and it wasn't long before he sprang backwards. Unleashing his blades from their sheath and proceeding to find registration on the massive stone. More as an effort to prove the thing was indeed solid and not some kind of mystical high quality mirage.
"YEOWCH!"
"WH!" Turning a few million more shades pale the young man let a shocked gasp shoot out from his mouth, face contorting into some bug eyed massive mouth cave.
"Who just goes around stabbing rocks! You cuss!" The 'foulmouthed' rock spat out, its voice shaking the air around it like some distant storm.
Doing a shorter but equally as dramatic jump back Kite gave his face another try. Thoughts of a heat stroke flashed through his mind.
"I SAID WHO GOES AROUND STABBING ROCKS YOU CUSS! A TOTAL CUSS, CUSS YOU! CUSS YOU AND YOUR MOMMA!" The rock roared in clear irritation, though from a lack of a face this was all strictly implied from the tone it was taking.
Each mention of Cuss got a smaller and smaller jump back, expression becoming less comical until Kite inhaled a massive amount of air and gave his face a few slaps to regain his composure. Fingers making sure to ensure the blades didn't go in for an unintentional stab when he tried to knock the crazy out of himself. By the conclusion of the episode he was up near the rock turning his head and tilting it side to side.
"I... I didn't mean that-- that said please try to just insult me, not my mother. I'm the one who made the poor decision... I have to ask though are you... well... like a magic rock? Is this a hallucination?"
"What kind of hallucination tells you that it's a hallucination you cuss! No! I'm a normal person! A rock person! Why do you think I'm all the way out here?! Couldn't very well be in town!"
Head shooting back every so slightly Kite deposited his swords in their sheaths and considered his next words carefully. Resigned to scratch at his chin as the rock rattled off a few more cusswords. At the height of the rant Kite proceeded to clear his throat as scratchily as possible netting the attention of the masculine voice.
"WHAT?!"
"Have you seen a... uhm... Jim? Jim Hart."
"... Jimmy... The heck you want with Jimmy, you cuss!"
"Well you see, Sheriff Claudia--"
"CLAW PUT YOU UP TO THIS?! THE HELLCAT?! SHE'S STILL HERE?!"
"Claw...?"
"Yes! Sheriffs daughter-- that chickadee! Been looking after the town since her pa passed. Bless his heart... Damned Jimm and his rustlers have always managed to slip away from those two-- left me like this even!"
"Wait then you're... what's your relation?"
"Jim!"
"Jim?"
"JIM!"
"HOW-- YOU JUST SAID JIM LEFT YOU HERE LIKE THIS!"
"NO YOU IDJIT! JIMM, AS IN TWO M'S. SAY IT WITH ME. JII-MMMMMUHHHH!"
"WHAT? ARE YOU GUYS RELATED?!"
"YEA ACTUALLY! WAS A PRETTY NICE GUY UNTIL A FEW YEARS BACK. TOTAL CUSS EVER SINCE!"
Continuing to have his shouting match with the rock, Kite and Jim remained ignorant of a pair of very sinister eyes off in the distance. Closer to Vesper Town, perched atop a rather dull red and white barn. Smiling an ear to ear grin.
The unadulterated blood lust and menace managed to make Kites skin break out into goosebumps. In the process of firing a retort back at the bolder he clamped his mouth shut. Eyes wide, neck hair standing on ends, he whirled around with his eyes a fraction wider than they had been. Although Jim was still firing off zingers left and right the hunter had gone completely silent, resorting to scanning his surroundings.
Given a few minutes the blip on his natural radar subsided and Kite was more than happy to let his shoulders sag. Heaving out a particularly windy sigh he turned back to the bolder and delivered quite a solid kick after he closed the distance. His boots had taken most of the punishment and the dull, quiet pain didn't really bother him all that much to begin with.
Effect was immediate, almost as if the massive slab seemed to vibrate some.
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW"
"I--"
"WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND SWEET IN THIS WORLD!" Claudia matched the volume of the dying roar of the rock, judging from her heaving frame she had been running too.
"I come out here hearing all sorts of noises thinking some dolt used miners explosives on poor animals and I'm met with this! Why oh WHY are you screaming at a rock!"
"I AINT NO ROCK! OR AT LEAST A PART OF ME AINT!"
That same expression of pure shock affixed itself onto Claudia almost mirroring how Kite had reacted to the whole thing. Rather than attempting to explain it away the hunter crossed his arms and got back a ways, finding some flat rock to sit on and cover his ears while the two revisited one another.
Once the painful ringing stopped and he felt the atmosphere calm itself he dislodged his hands from his ears. During which time he caught the tail end of a conversation, one that got him rising up from his seat as well.
"One bite, I turn into this. Next thing I know I get bound and he rides off back towards the valley. Moss and critters in here have kept me living but... Claw this ain't no life. You gotta help me out or something! No telling what Jimm has been doing if he's been using my name! Think about that time with--"
"Yea... Yea I get it Jim... Damn. I... well at the time I never really did believe the story was all that. Between you both you always set him on the straight and narrow," Looking like she wanted to say more she turned to Kite.
Clearing her throat and adjusting her gloves and scrunching up her face a bit it was clear this wasn't meant for his ears.
"I can't fault you for not following through strict orders, bounty man. I don't suppose you could--"
"Cut him out? Sure. Rock like this isn't going to damage my blades too bad," Kite lied, feeling a pang of anxiety about spewing that just for her benefit.
Had he imagined worry in her eyes?
"Man needs food, clothes, probably could do spectak-a-clearly with a bath," Butchering the words with that interesting southern bell accent she made to give Kite room.
"So... these rocks a part of you or--" Kite started as he ran the edge of his two daggers across the side of the rock looking for impressions to gain leverage with.
"Just got a few parts pressed. Whatever that food done did it caused these here rocks to pile up on me."
"That's a relief. Didn't want the image of bleeding rocks to haunt me."
"Funny man, funny man... not but seriously don't warn me when you start to-- YEOWCH!" Jim shouted when Kite started jamming his blades deep into the surface of the stone.
"Got it," He answered, gritting his teeth as he ruthlessly jammed the metal yet deeper into the surface of the mineral deposit.
Every step of the way Kite had to stop and check to see if his blades were warping, each time the answer was no was like a miniature firework. In turn the actual process of heaving the rocks off seemed to come easier and easier. As if whatever force had innately called themselves to the man was fading, responsive only when he yelped in pain. Every episode of shouting in regards to a prick or smooshing of his contained body got those stones rolling back up to where they were.
An easier solution was to just cut up the remains into smaller rocks, pebbles even. The noise produced was enough to make ears bleed but Kalisto managed.
What might've taken hours was finished in less than one.
Jim as it turned out was a very emaciated, very unwashed man. Thankfully clothed in what might've once been overhauls and a checkered shirt along with boots. Reduced to sand colored rags they clung to a very exaggerated skeleton, a mess of matted brown hair made the mans head look more like a hairball than a head. Either way it wasn't difficult to discern the noises of celebration coming from the crouched over man. Sliding just off a rock that had likely been his bed, restroom and so on he rushed off to hug what was likely one of his only friends. The sheriff for her part flinched and gagged silently but did her best to comfort the man, glaring at Kite to catch his attention.
Going back into town with this odd character was going to turn faces, if they got closer it would've turned noses. A bath was on the immediate list of things to do as was a good meal and a trip to the tailors. They were one windy gust away from the currents catching onto Jims ruined finery and seeing him flap off into the sky above. How it stuck to his withered form was also somewhat concerning.
...
"Mystery food besides the point why would they just leave him out there like that? If he hadn't been eating moss..."
"Walking with the deceased, you're right. I'm as stumped as you are. Jim and Jimm caused all sorts of minor trouble but this is something else."
"Any sort of documentation-- did your dad leave anything behind that might help?"
"Nothing comes to mind. Very private man, only passed things to you through word of mouth. Hated letters, writing showed it," Claudia gave somewhat of a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she recalled some memory.
"I don't want to push it but... I should be going," Kite inclined his head towards the door giving further implication towards his meaning.
"Yea yea... happy trails, all that. I'm not going to bind you to strict orders other then try not to kill. The sooner we get a confession out of that yellow-bellied son-of-a-gun the sooner we can clear Jims name up. Give him that clotuire."
'Closure huh?'
Grunting out in agreement Kite rose up from his seat and made his way out of the sheriffs office. Gently easing the door back and walking across the wooden planks that comprised the porch of the establishment. While it was cool and shaded like this in the dead of night there was an almost weary kind of calm. No howling of the wind, no screaming rocks and if you focused just hard enough you could hear into the other buildings of this settlement.
Not paying enough mind to spy the bounty hunter collected his bearings and got about to taking out a map that had been hand drawn. Leaning against one of the supporting poles that kept up the porches roof he used an overhead oil lamp to read. The scrawl wasn't too difficult to decipher and landmarks were put down in place of scale or accurate topography. Not that the silver haired hunter had expected much, the fact these landmarks were apparently big enough to see in the dark was going to be enough of a lead. But to just be on the safe side Kalisto determined it was in his best interest to scale one of the nearby roofs and use that eyesight to peak out what direction to head in.
Wherever that valley was supposed to be, that was where Jimm had crept into and made a home for himself.
A dangerous place, word of mouth claimed. Filled with predatory species, creeper vines or cacti. Not to mention the local thugs or bandits that had flocked under Jimm to cause as much trouble in the safety of numbers. It was going to be dangerous dealing with men that had experience of the land behind themselves. Terrible fighters or not there was the possibility of traps or an ambush that could send this entire solo man operation off kilter, tumbling into an early demise or some kind of ransom. Ransom implied that Jimm would be feeling generous, that he was going to allow one of his victims to live-- and the man didn't seem so much interested in money as he did the act of terror on its own. How he operated, why he operated just didn't make any sense.
"Chaotic types are always the most frustrating. They do things on whims and you'll always be tempted to attach logical motive to where there isn't any. Puts you off edge... puts them at an advantage," Kite shook his head while he spoke to no one in particular.
Rolling his shoulders he elected to walk out from under the roof of the opening of Claudias office. Hop right on top of the building from there to scope out his route.
8:00 PM, Vultures Canyon
Getting to a high vantage point to make out the canyon several miles away was somewhat difficult. The modifier 'somewhat' was important because the actual challenge was Kite having to cling to rocky walls to lower himself down. The earth here was eroded by nature to make a practically labyrinthine-like landscape meaning an additional safety net was required. Taking his sword, previously a pair of knives turned rock climbing axe and tracing the weapon across the ground. Working in a steady grove it was possible for the hunter to have a trail leading all the way back from his initial point of descent. The bonus of doing this was Kite was ready for whatever animal came scampering his way, driven by hunger into an open frenzy.
This Canyon was called the Boneyard by some for a very, very good reason. The abundance of dangerous animals as well as a skyrocketing population of vultures meant the only constant landmarks were bleached white bones. A few cacti here and there, green pillars of thorns that broke up the macabre decorations of this pit. With the sun so low and shadows beginning to snake their way along the more shaded sections even the fragile flowers atop the plants looked menacing. Served to keep Kite on his guard and made him just that much more jumpy, ready to lash out and throttle the phantasms his mind imagined.
A familiar pressure of eyes drilled into his skin and got his eyes to fire off every which way. Quick jerks and twitches that almost looked like typical REM. Through it all the man continued walking deeper into the wilds, turning a right corner here and a left corner there. Aside from the slow chatter of his blade against loose dirt the entire place was dead quiet, even the call of the carrion birds had ceased to little more than an occasional flutter. At times it got him wondering, forced a quick glance up at the sky to confirm the pests were still lined up on the lip of the canyon. Meticulously watching what they suspected was a new denizen of the boneyard.
'Don't think so, rats with wings. Better off staring down at some lizard or bug. I'm off the menu,' Talking to himself for more his own benefit, a shiver escaped despite being suppressed.
Minutes had turned to closer to an hour allowing the darkness to fountain up like some kind of weightless oil. Staining the environment an obscuring black and hiding the approach of several photosensitive insects. Mostly scorpions, who preferred the cool darkness among some other nastier arthropods. They wouldn't exactly attack a healthy body but that chattering got the deserts guest to hurry his strides to deeper compartments of the land. Further inward to where the cave entrances dotted the land, yet closer to Jimm and whatever gang the twisted soul had managed to pull together.
"Are you dense or something?" More like a whisper then a casual tone, Kite was able to whip around and stare to his left at an overhanging cliff face.
"Stopping me before I go in-- could be a mook or the actual boss. You going to come out or am I going to have to pressure that out too," Defiantly taking one step forward, Kite made his stance very clear.
"Boss. Jimm. You freed my brother though so you likely already know that. As well as how dangerous it is to be venturing in these parts, let alone going up against me by your lonesome."
"I didn't need Claudia trying to bullrush you. You've made a lot of enemies after your series of stupid stunts and minor crimes."
"You know her well enough. Alright. I'll make this painless. Just stand real still and I'll try to get a good grip on that neck."
Tensing momentarily Kite tried to pinpoint where the voice was moving to, a fading sun did little to offer illumination even at that height. A noise of singing steel on the air is what got Kite to haul his sword up into a guard. Allowed him to force his own weight against whatever Jimm had thrown at him, prevent the grapple and the cut all in one defense. Rather than battling it out once Kite had planted his feet he swung his body to the right allowing the projectile to continue its path once shoved, inertia forcing it to follow a path into the ground. What emerged from the cloud of detritus and sand was more bandages than human. Emaciated further than Jim had been, this mummy was more bones than flesh. Kite nearly averted his eyes when the question came as to how this thing looked if it were in clothes.
"Squirm all you want. This form is what my evolution took... the ideal form of evil. And it's what is going to let me take you down," Jimm growled, the bandages where his mouth would be formed a dark spit stained slit that hinted at a mouth.
The singular pale blue eye that jutted out between folds of the parchment was cracked, red and bulbous in a way that implied the thing was too big for its own socket.
"What in the world could've made you snap," Kite murmured wasting zero time in lunging forward with his sword drawn behind his head.
Lashing out with a series of diagonal and horizontal slashes as an attempt to catch the villain in his side. Unexpectedly the mummy lowered his closer left arm and shouldered the hit across his limb. The sword registering a hard material that forced sparks to dance off the crumpled and ruined paper, which in turned peeled away to reveal ash grey skin marred with various cracks and craters. No matter how many times Kite retracted his blade and tried to go in for another cut Jimm was there to catch his blade. Bat it to the side with his naked hand which possessed the same peculiar tint and texture. Reminded of a mannequin in its artificial form and painful looking gait each step the gang boss took forward was restrained and unnatural. Moreover there was still the matter of his own gang, if they hadn't stepped in were they just watching or did they plan to overpower Kite?
"I'm not shocked. Had to have been cocky for some reason if you intended to get broadsided by my weapon like that or even get close. Not going to complement you either-- though the honor also has me curious. Why not just have your men come out from where they are and finish me off?"
"Not that simple, hunter. You see a key part in my growth is testing my skills and I've pick you. You! All this running around you've been doing... how you carelessly wander into the desert and the ease at which you freed Jim despite the Heavens Scale... You're much stronger than anything this island could offer me! So I'm going to keep backing you up into a corner. And when I've had my fun, when you're all dried up THEN I'm going to have my men kill you. Rip you to shreds or whatever else their hearts desire," Bringing out both arms the psychopath twirled around like he was proclaiming some grand truth.
An opening the hunter took advantage of.
"I'd use those hands to cover your ears," Kite warned.
Stowing his sword into an undersized sheath he flicked the tool out in under a second, a curtain of air shaking around the blades tip while a faint buzzing hummed to life. A total of two seconds and that same worrisome noise was channeled out into a column that battered the too slow boss, arms seizing up just before they reached the ears. Eye bulging out even more and mouth being drawn into a snarl that showed teeth through the bandage slit. Even his minions started howling like desert dogs once the noise had began reaching the apex of volume. Bouncing off the walls of the natural maze like a resonating chamber or a bathroom. Using something like this meant you ran the risk of pointing out your own position, only Jim had clarified his help was nearby which meant the risks now didn't outweigh the potential for reward. The sweet advantage that came with a deafened or dazed enemy.
Stowing the sword across the back of his neck and holding the handle with his right hand the albino landed a kick to the convulsing mummy. Toppling the poor guy in a heap on the ground and planting another foot to his chest. Lowing the blade he pressed the tip of its exterior to his chest making sure the ear screeching noise was bleeding into a solid surface. It took away from the ambient effect but it inflicted a supremely focused attention onto Jim. Made sure his ears were pleading for the attack to end.
It did.
Ended right when Kite had stabbed the blade through the shoulder of the exposed hand. The sword quieted, but Jim had began screaming in agonized amounts of pain. His wailing forcing the desperado's right out of their holes letting Kite twist his head around to get a look at them. A good portion were to his back but from the advancing numbers that chose to flank within vision showed him they were locals or themed after the wild west atmosphere of the island. A lot of cowboy hats, a lot of chaps and spurs, most things were made of leather with a scant few decorations like buckles and securing locks made out of metal. A clear theme to the colors was immediately obvious too. Browns, blacks, dark blues and other earthly colors.
"What are you waiting for?!" Jimm sniffled, taking his free hand to grip at his shoulder while he heaved his belly to get Kite off.
"Have at it! He's yours! Captains orders!" Tears pooling around his eye he rolled off towards some less aggravated looking men who helped him to his feet.
From the apron on one and the collection of knives, assortments of medicine strapped to his chest like a bandoleer, Kite chanced a guess one was at least somewhat medically competent. Attention snapping back at the rear which when finally exposed by line of sight showed an impressive number of goons, crowded around one another like that they almost looked like organic water. The turn around was all they needed and the charge was underway, little thought given by the time Kite took his sword and hefted it up to a similar position like he had earlier. Stowing a full sized sword in an itty bitty knives sheathe.
"One or two more shots of this would knock a person out. I'm going to guess with the acoustics here I'll bust a few ear drums too. I'd blame that more on the nutjob you call a boss... also your own lack of an initiative-- since I'm giving you the option to run away," Kite pointed out as a frown crossed his stern expression.
Advancing hoard paid him little mind and readied whatever weapons they had on hand. Twenty or thirty in total comprising their attack force.
"Ooookay then. Like captain like crew," withdrawing the blade most of that statement was drowned out in painful screaming and shouting.
An actual fight never had an opportunity to break out as most of the opposition had folded to the ground. Unable or unwilling to continue forward to the lance of sound that was currently forcing out so much ruckus you couldn't think. Further boosted by the walls to the extent that once the vertigo had hit you'd feel the need to clear the contents of your stomach and flop right on over like a drunkard. It was a bonus Kite hadn't counted on and one he silently thanked the powers at work above for. Had this been different he'd been breaking a sweat on enemies he'd rather avoid, going off to the big boss to finish things instead.
"Speaking of which," Kite interrupted his thoughts and wheeled on his feet to face the former location of Jim.
Stepping over fallen enemies he tiptoed his way to one of the dusky cavern entrances. Uncaring of the warning signs, the bones or the insects that scurried around in the dingy atmosphere of the interior. Instead of dwelling on those little red flags Kite prepared his sword, put the thing pointed up in both hands and made a dash towards wherever his current path would lead him, even if that was danger.
A warped sense of time made him think his charge took an hour, but it had been only minutes in by the time he was in an organic antechamber scattered with oil lamps, cots, tables and supplies assorted in haphazardly stacked piles of boxes. The room was organized more into piles versus sections, all the cots near one corner while the tables were in the center nearest to the fire pit and the supplies took up every other available spot. It meant that while the two doctors worked they had to diligently remove whatever was blocking their way and make sure it didn't just tumble back on their patient. Jimm was a squirmer it appeared, and what cot they had commandeered requires restraints be laced onto his wrists and ankles.
Medical staff either didn't take notice of Kite or they didn't care, but Jimm in his haze did. He started moaning and groaning before an unmarked needle to the right crook of his neck got him to rest his head back down with a relaxed hiss of air.
"I'll cut you a deal if you don't start spouting nonsense," Kite offered, planting his sword tip first into the ground leaning on it with his elbow whilst he admired the game of operation.
Expression lingering somewhere between vague interest and light annoyance.
"What would... you have... of... me," Jimm managed, very clearly playing off of what sympathy he perceived Kite to have.
"You're going to turn yourself in. Make up with Jim. Stop doing what you're doing here. You know, usual good guy stuff. Admissions of defeat-- the price you pay for acting up for a good few years."
"Do you have any idea--"
"A BUHBUHBUHBUH! NONE OF THAT," Kite snapped suddenly rising to stand proper and point his blade out just a few feet from the cot causing the medical team to straighten up in turn and have vials and tools clack away in crowded fingers.
"... FINE! Just... no more of that noise... I very clearly underestimated you. Was fed some very misleading info about you... got my ego inflated," Jimm managed to get even more slack only curling his exposed bandaged toes a bit in a full body wince once doctors prodded his wound.
"Tell me about that, actually," Kite took to leaning on his sword again.
"What's there to tell? Someone told me about you. That someone had been of a great assistance years ago and I had no reason to doubt them. They had my best interest at heart, put me on the road for greatness! It's... a wonder why this happened. How. Racking my brain wont solve it... so perhaps its my fault and not theirs."
"A name."
"Mister Handy."
"That's... well I've heard some worse names. I don't recognize him."
"You wouldn't. He only approaches people he knows that he can help... a bounty hunter? That's beyond even his expertise," A dry chuckle escaped what were likely chapped lips.
"Enlighten me?"
"You're making this whole... medical procedure tiring but... spoils of war. I don't know much beyond that he has an impressive list of customers. Most of my crew were helped by him, hell most of them became pretty lucrative and got separate bounties. Which I had thought was why you went after them first--"
"No. I wanted to run after you but I had no real choice," Kite clarified forcing another eerily wind like laugh to slide out of Jimm's mouth.
"Either way... that's his job. He helps people to make something of themselves. I... why don't I remember more?"
"Come again?"
"In my head... He... In my head? Head..."
"Jimm?"
"He passed out," One of the medical personnel offered, looking Kites way with a perfectly neutral expression in his eyes.
The both of them shared similar appearances, fully white with surgical aprons and checkered yellow and green bandanna's around their mouths. One was taller, the other stouter with both possessing copper hair. Freckles adorned their exposed skin and a sleeveless button up shirt revealed both had extensive sleeve tattoo's. Most looked like formulas, or numbers. Hard to glean more off of appearances alone they prepared to move their boss under his spoils order.
Kite couldn't carry off the others so he resolved to leave them behind, up to the part where he neared the caves entrance and saw Claudia. Somewhat paled and shocked to have found Kite, stumbling over her words once the medics presented Jimm.
"Get help. For him, for the others. A lot of processing is in order and I'm guessing we'll need alternative holding. All of these guys have bounties excluding maybe the medics-- hey. Hey! You with me?"
"I-- Yea! Yea dammit... just a little surprised is all. You a magnet for weird or something?"
"Something, sure," Kite offered, trying to go for a chuckle but finding the noise was strange in his throat.
Awkwardly backing out of the conversation the man instead offered his services in keeping watch over Jimm, making sure to restrain those he could by ripping off portions of clothes and tying them into makeshift cuffs with tight enough knots. A stronger man could just rip through them, but dizzied and freezing souls would have a little more difficult time worming free.
Kite got to watch Claudia retreat off to the marker path Kite had made, wordlessly she had been thankful of the guidance probably and even more so the reprieve. One foot into the Grand Line but it was still exotic seeing, hearing what Kite could do. Some freaked out, others acted like it wasn't a big deal. Resinbar, or maybe that town was just a quiet place-- had been up until now following the brothers falling out.
Mister Handy, whoever that was lied at the center of this sudden activity. Why he was so interested in helping clients he approached was something Kite couldn't get a handle on. And the way Jimm snapped a bit near the end came to mind. Suggested that the agreement was anything but normal. Hazarding a guess Kalisto figured that maybe the man had messed with Jimm's head? He had been acting normal up until a few years ago-- but that meant taking away responsibility for his crimes and pinning it onto this name. Mister Handy could also be some sort of ploy, a means for the criminal to get off a little easier with folks he knew.
All Kite could really do was hope that the people handling him would know better. Could see through a lie or two.
Open Ocean, Daytime probably, One day later.
Processing all those bounties was more of a chore than the fight, putting names to faces that were not on record or were so wildly off base it took multiple witnesses. A saving grace was most of the mooks were local or had enough history on the island that at least one person was available to respond to inquiries if supplied the right amount of compensation. Just went to show how close knit the island was even given its giant size, how in a few hours you had someone clamoring to the sheriffs office responding to a reward for information. Sure you had the charlatans or liars that wanted to pull one over but after a few square kicks out the door people learned their lesson and it was less of a regular occurrence. Helped that Kite put on his scary face for that extra layer of deterrent while Claudia rested her kicking foot on her desk.
A marine vessel would come by soon enough to collect them all, credit being divided squarely with the sheriff and Kite. The metallic haired man had nothing to argue about, she had assisted him on carrying most of them out as well as provided the means to discerning who was who. Not to mention took care of both cleaning and housing Jim while he got enough strength to stand-- even went so far as to help him along when he had to make trips to the john to hurl out whatever made him sick. Apparently he had been eating some kinda rock along with whatever else the desert gave him, Kite didn't make a point of asking to see the thing and was happy once it was disposed of.
Farewells were another story though. Seemed like the little ceremony lasted in the blink of an eye. A party, drinks, a conversation about where paths might cross and how. Even some more scandalous matters, avoided through sheer will or otherwise hearts were kinked and hugs given out. Kite could even feel the phantom pain around his sides and chanced a shiver as he laid back atop the cargo boxes of the lower deck. Eyes closing once he got into a comfortable position allowing the rocking back and forth of the boat to take him some place far away from Resinbar.
If those eyes would've stayed open for a second more they could've registered a peeping tom. Someone who gingerly snaked their way past some boxes to sit by Kite and examine the sleeping form with a keen stare. They didn't touch, made no overt menacing actions or attempts on his life. Their short but average body allowed them the benefit of not needing to lean in to marvel at the specimen that had bested so many trial cases.
"The physique, the exotic appearance, even something as simple as fashion choice and more importantly these... whatever these crosses are," The voice waved a white gloved hand at the items.
"I get it. All of it. Why you cut Jimm down to size and worked past my little programming. Got him to twist all the way to my trigger and force a loss in consciousness. You know... that really only happens if he's scared-- which I could've sworn I knocked out of his system once I forced him to swallow that scale. Let him see what happened on a more emotionally unstable person."
"On the off chance you're listening... I'm going to have to repay you for tainting my figures. It's a matter of appearance at this point-- since you did give me more to work with. Problems to work around in going forward," Nodding to himself the five foot tall masculine figure hopped off his nearby box and walked off.
The way he moved was signature and easy to pick out if you saw it. Those legs moved remarkably fast, almost blurring as he kicked them despite only moving at a walking pace. It almost looked like they were pegs. Perhaps his hands were just as fast as his legs, slipping a note into the hunters overcoat like that before he even hit down on the floor.
Once he was out of sight he continued his journey to the top of the deck, returned to whatever room he had came from. Locked out of sight by a closing door and the click of a very ornate gold key.
Mister Handy was a very patient and careful man. He had not gotten to where he was through pure blunder, or by mistake. Planning each heist, every contact he made and strategically only letting out enough of his crimes to public notice to elevate his bounty into a target range. It provided validity without seeming imposing to the more big names, let him inch closer and dig in those delicately manicured fingers.